Scott Series: Fallen Brother
by QuestRunner
Summary: In a rare chance to bond with his youngest brother, Scott takes Alan with him on a simple mission to repair a damaged satellite. With tempers running high, the boys find themselves arguing over the roles they play in International Rescue. When Alan slips off a cliff, it's up to Scott to save his brother and mend their broken relationship.
1. Chapter 1

A perfect day. Scott sighed in satisfaction as he languished in a lounge chair by the Tracy family pool. This was his favorite spot in the world, second only to the cockpit of his beloved Thunderbird One. Here, he had a good vantage point of both the house and shoreline; he could keep an eye on his family while also maintaining close proximity to the debriefing room, should International Rescue be needed. Besides, he had a modicum of comfort knowing his aircraft was nestled securely below him, pristine and ready at a moment's notice.

He shielded his eyes against the sun's harsh rays, scanning the grounds. He couldn't see Virgil, but he wasn't overly concerned. The younger pilot was always getting sparks of inspiration for his paintings or other works of art, and often disappeared inside to construct his masterpieces. Kayo was speaking animatedly with Brains in the kitchen, probably discussing possible modifications for Thunderbird S. She'd been absolutely thrilled when they finally revealed the ship to her – they'd been keeping it a secret for weeks – and now all of her extra time was spent training with the controls and thinking of improvements. In some ways, she was the glue that held the boys together. Although not blood related, she was regarded as a sister and they were lucky to have her on the team.

He shook his head, smiling, and shifted his gaze toward the ocean. Gordon and Alan were, predictably, by the water's edge. Scott was thankful. More often than not, the two would disrupt the calming nature of the pool area and splash any unsuspecting passersby if they got too close. Scott himself had been the victim of one too many water attacks to settle by the pool when the youngest brothers were at play. He grimaced at the notion of swallowing salt water as the duo frolicked in the waves and dived down in the clear depths. He had never understood Gordon's affinity for swimming, be it laps or in the open ocean, but he was glad one of his brothers had sharpened that skill, as it was invaluable in many of their rescues.

Content that his brothers would stay out of trouble, Scott closed his eyes and started to drift off into a light slumber when his wrist communicator beeped loudly. He woke with a start, instantly recognizing John was signaling him. The wrist comms were only required on missions, but Scott had taken to wearing his outside of rescues. At first, he simply considered it on a strategic level, given his Air Force background, so that he could be informed of International Rescue activities while away from home. Lately, though, it had served a different purpose; regularly keeping him in contact with John. The second oldest brother faired well by himself and enjoyed his time on Thunderbird Five, but the solitude could become suffocating if he didn't have an outlet. Now, Scott and John spoke daily, but not always about potential threats or the Hood's movements. Sometimes they discussed movies. Or books. Or made fun of their brothers. This, however, was not one of those calls.

"Hi, Johnny, how's it hanging?"

A groan and most likely some eye rolling. "Ha, ha. You know, I think that joke gets less funny every time you say it." Scott grinned. He couldn't help but rib his brother a little since he spent most of his time floating in zero gravity.

"Just for that, Scotty, I'm putting you on clean up duty." Scott chuckled in response, though not mockingly. Clean up duty was their fancy way of itemizing low priority items for the team. Sometimes that involved Alan cleaning up space junk, or Gordon inspecting underwater wrecks…everyone had their specific talents that lent well to one form of miscellaneous task or another. Scott, however, liked to think of himself as a jack-of-all trades. He didn't mind the minor missions like Kayo or his other brothers, who typically regarded them as unimportant or beneath their line of work. While sometimes this was true and people took advantage of their resources, he found it was therapeutic to complete a simpler task every once in a while without all the fanfare and chaos. He liked thinking these actions made significant changes in the world, no matter how small.

"As long as it's on a beach somewhere with an open bar, I'll bite." Scott taunted, though they both knew he would accept no matter where John sent him. An amused sigh, then: "Well, it IS on a beach. A rocky, craggy mess of an island in the south Pacific. Uninhabited, so no bar, but how about drinks are on me when I return home in two weeks?"

"Feeling charitable, huh?"

"Empathetic. I know you guys are on vacation." This was true. For the past several months, International Rescue had been running virtually nonstop from natural disasters, Hood's schemes and – Scott's personal favorite – natural disasters CAUSED by Hood's schemes. Things were tougher than ever without Dad around and their current respite from mayhem, however short, was long overdue. Even John wasn't immune to the constant fluctuation of activity, though he tended to burn himself out far slower than the other Tracys.

Scott hoisted himself in a seating position then stretched as he stood up. "I'm up, anyways. What do you got?"

Within seconds, a 3D ghostly image of a steep rock face surrounded by dense vegetation projected from Scott's wrist comm. "This is the island. About three years ago, we installed a giant remote satellite on one of the highest peaks. It was one of seven that we distributed in various places along the globe. They act more as a counter measure than anything else, but this particular one is no longer emitting a signal. It was most likely damaged by debris from a tropical storm. Brains already has a repair kit put together and will walk you through the steps when you arrive."

"FAB. I'll get started. Thanks, John." Scott went to shut off the communication but his brother's hologram motioned him to stop.

"Wait, Scott. One more thing. You shouldn't go alone. There's enough clearance for Thunderbird One to land reasonably close, but you'll still have some ground to cover before you reach the satellite. We laid down a path when the satellite was assembled but I can't be sure of its condition now. One misstep, one loose rock…you get the picture." Scott mulled over the advice, nodding reluctantly. He was averse to bringing anyone else along, given their current break, but he understood the need for safety. He weighed his options. He didn't want to disturb Kayo. She was already done speaking with Brains and had fled back down to the bunker to tinker with her Thunderbird. That left his brothers. His grin broadened. None he chose would be too happy about this turn of events, but he was confident they'd make the most of it. He knew Virgil would accompany him without question, but their missions nearly always overlapped and the third eldest wouldn't be too keen on playing second fiddle when he was used to calling the shots in Thunderbird Two. Gordon would likely be the funnest to have around due to his penchant for jokes, but he hadn't been able to swim recreationally for over three weeks and Scott didn't want to take that time away from him. And Alan…yes, Alan! He was a perfect candidate. They didn't typically spend much time together on missions and even less so at home where Alan was still a kid at heart and Scott often felt compelled to take on some of Dad's responsibilities as leader of International Rescue. _Temporary leader,_ he silently chided, cutting John's signal and flagging down the blonde from the shoreline.

"Alan! Hey, Alan! We've got a mission!"

Scott almost wished he'd gone solo, although he could certainly pretend he was alone while Alan sat sulking behind the pilot's seat. Most of the time, he honestly forgot how _young_ his brother was; after all, Alan was a certified pilot, astronaut and racecar driver, renowned rescuer who often thought out-of-the-box to solve all manner of complicated problems. But all Alan's accomplishments couldn't disguise the fact that he was the most inexperienced and, yes, immature of the Tracy boys. So it shouldn't have come as a surprise that instead of treating this excursion as a learning opportunity and bonding experience with his oldest brother, Alan had chose to think of it as a punishment. Scott could recite the number of ways his brother had pulled the "why-can't-I-stay-at-home-everyone-else-is-having-fun" card until he had lapsed into a simmering silence. Scott tried to reign in his own emotions. He didn't even know what he was feeling. Regret? Sadness? Anger?

He slowed the ship and dipped beneath cloud cover as he neared John's readouts. The island rose to meet him, tall blades of stone jutting from the earth like a curved claw. Waves lapped against the shore with reckless abandon, seeming to carve the very life out of this desolate place. The island looked cold, aloof and miserable; much like the atmosphere in the cockpit. He risked a glance back at Alan, catching the youth's eye.

"Looks like we made it. Hopefully repairs won't take too long." He attempted to keep his voice light. He didn't wish to start an argument but Alan's attitude was making it difficult. His brother just grunted in response.

Scott swung Thunderbird One gracefully around some sharp peaks, buffeted gently by wind currents, until he noticed the clearing meant for his arrival. He opened a link to John. "Thunderbird Five, this is Thunderbird One. Commencing landing."

A pause, then: "I see you, Thunderbird One. I'm counting on you. Get my girl up and running again."

Scott visibly relaxed at John's good-natured reply. His levelheaded brother always did excel at defusing tense situations; even Alan's mood seemed to lift slightly. The landing was executed smoothly and the boys began some light banter as they both hauled duffel bags full of supplies out into the clearing. Salt-laced air rippled through their uniforms, a small reminder of their high altitude. Alan's excitement got the better of him for a moment as he dashed to the side of the path and peered over the edge.

"WHOA! Scott, look how far down-"

Scott grabbed his brother by the back of his collar and pulled him bodily back. "Okay, buddy. Let's stay away from the edge. We'll have time for sight-seeing later." Alan huffed in annoyance, but wisely stepped back. The path was decent but broken in places. Scott unconsciously tugged the blonde closer as they made their ascent, shielding him from the worst patches. The trek was slow going due to the eldest brother's extra cautious pace, but eventually they emerged into an open glade that housed the dead satellite. Although they were relatively safe, Scott made a point to locate every possible pitfall along the steep cliff side and warn Alan of the danger. The astronaut's earlier resentment seemed to resurface a little at the insinuation.

"I'm not a child anymore, Scott! I can handle myself. I'm not just gonna go tumbling off the edge!"

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't need to."

Scott busied himself by combing through the items in his bag while studiously eluding Alan's glare. He could feel his irritation building and had to bite his tongue to avoid responding in kind. As the oldest, he couldn't help his natural instincts to be the protector, the leader. Was it his fault Alan took every comment as a personal attack?

"Alan, I didn't mean to make you feel like that. Okay? So could you _please_ help me with this?" Scott berated himself for his snappy response. Literally any of the other Tracys – including Kayo – would be better equipped to deal with Alan right now, in this state. He'd never been one for consoling, like Gords and Virgil, and made a terrible listener, unlike John and Kayo. How he wished one of them was here to help salvage the situation. This stupid bickering wouldn't have happened under his Dad's command. They'd all gotten along then. Scott wondered if his leadership was the splinter driving the rift between them both.

Alan tore through his own duffel bag roughly, though to his credit he did handle the more frail items with delicacy. Scott quickly commed Brains, who provided careful instructions for diagnosing the problem before launching into any repairs. The process was agonizingly tedious, even without both brothers avoiding eye contact and working in silence. Alan yelped in surprise as familiar sirens blared through their comms, drowning Brains' commentary.

"Scott! There's a mission! A REAL mission!"

Scott was too focused to realize the blonde was now talking to him again. He needed answers. "Brains, what's going on?" The engineer's face grew anxious.

"It appears John is hailing International Rescue. I'll transfer you to the debriefing room." A moment of silence as Brains' hologram disappeared from view, until it was replaced by a translucent image of their living room. Virgil, Gordon, Kayo and Grandma Tracy were already present, John's ghostly form hovering in the center. Scott knew he and Alan would be showing up as holograms as well. It was an odd feeling, being disconnected from the immediate action. Alan hunched excitedly over his shoulder. John smiled tiredly.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it looks like your vacation's at an end. Crime never sleeps, and all that."

Alan sprang forward in earnest. "Is it the Hood? Bet it's the Hood. Where is he?!" John lifted his hands in a placating gesture.

"Easy, Al. We'll get the Hood. But now we have more pressing matters." John's fingertips splayed expertly as he pushed a 3D building schematic into their line of view. "There's been an incident at GDF Headquarters. Apparently some experimental energy converters exploded, causing a portion of the building to collapse. Jury's still out whether the explosion was actually an accident. Approximately five people are trapped." John nodded toward the two middle brothers. "Virgil, Gordon, take Thunderbird Two and load her up with the Mole. Best to be over-prepared. And Kayo-" his gaze flickered to the covert agent – "we need you at base, as backup. If we get anymore calls, you'll be the next in line." Virgil and Gordon headed to their respective stations while Kayo settled down to examine data regarding the collapse.

"And us? What about us? We're gonna help with the ground rescue, right? Or find out the cause of the explosions? Just not crowd control, _please_ …" Alan begged, although Scott already knew the answer. They were too far away to provide any assistance, even with Thunderbird One's speed.

"I'm sorry, Alan," the redhead stated calmly. "Looks like you two are sitting this one out. Besides, you're already on a mission. How's my satellite coming?"

Scott could feel Alan shake beside him. "But-but this is a rescue! That's what we do, isn't it?" Silence. "Well? Isn't it?"

"Alan, enough." Scott reprimanded softly. He ran a hand through his hair, anticipating his younger brother's response. This was not going to sit well. "FAB, John. We've diagnosed the problem, but still need to fix your girl. Brains can update you on our ETA. Keep us posted." He cut the link quickly, promising to give Brains a call back after calming the angry blonde at his side. Alan leapt to his feet and stalked angrily away, his hands balled into fists. Scott waited tensely until the youth's emotions got the better of him.

"What are we even doing here, Scott? There are real people out there who need our help!"

He sighed, choosing his reply carefully. "There's no way to prepare for every call. We try our best, but sometimes things like this happen." He took a tentative step forward. "Virg and Gords know exactly what they're doing. And Kayo's more than capable of handling whatever comes her way."

Alan shook his head vehemently. "No. This isn't right. This isn't a mission. This is stupid!"

"We have a job to finish, Alan-"

"NO! I could be doing something important. I could be helping Virgil and Gordon! But you dragged me here, and for what? To fix some satellite that doesn't even serve a purpose?" Alan stepped backwards in a wide arc, breathing heavily. The once mild wind now whipped around cruelly, wrapping them both in its chilly embrace.

"This IS important. Everything we do is important. Who knows? Maybe this satellite will end up saving people. We can't change our circumstances, but we can make the best of it." Scott swallowed hard, running out of words to say. He hated the situation as much as Alan, but he couldn't crumble under the stress. Not here. Maybe not ever.

The blonde began to turn, edging dangerously close to an unstable outcropping of rock that Scott had pointed out earlier. Exasperation forgotten, Scott reached his hand out and inched forward warily.

"Alan, please, just walk towards me. It's not safe there." His brother regarded him frostily.

"Oh, sure. Let's just do everything YOU say because you're always right!"

"I-no, it's not…I could've done this myself, but John and I thought someone should come with me, just in case-"

"So you and John teamed up against me? Thought you'd get the weakest Tracy brother out of the picture in case a mission came up? You're always leaving me out!" Alan took another unconscious step back and Scott could've sworn he saw the ground shift minutely. He didn't realize he was shouting until it was too late.

"ALAN, GET BACK HERE BEFORE I-" A ragged cry tore through the glade as the ground under his beloved younger brother broke apart, dragging the blonde out of sight.


	2. Chapter 2

Scott's scream became unintelligible as he launched toward the cliff's edge. This could not be happening. This SHOULD NOT be happening. Not to Alan. Especially not Alan. His hand darted forward far too late, swiping at empty air in a futile attempt to grasp his brother and pull him to safety. "ALAN! ALAN!" he called out repeatedly, voice trembling. A sob wracked his throat when he didn't receive a response. He inched closer to the edge and tried to peer over the drop, but salty tears flooded his vision and he had to lift a shaky hand to clear his sight. "Alan, please. Alan!" His cries grew softer as he strained against the stinging wind and his own fear, eyes searching wildly for a blue uniform, a red sash. He barely registered the tremor under his own feet, until the sound of grating rock and churning soil awakened a fresh wave of terror. He barely had time to flinch as the rest of the ground gave way underneath him, unable to take his weight.

Scott's back slammed hard against a wall of packed earth and wind-cut rock, propelling him outward into showering shards of dirt and stone. His breath expelled in a gasp of pain. There was a moment when he was suspended completely in air, body tingling in shock from the sudden sensation of the fall, before he landed heavily on a rough, sandy surface. The momentum forced his body into a few jerky rolls, causing his arms to scramble for purchase. His head glanced against a large craggy boulder first while the rest of his body followed suit. He curled tighter against himself as his right knee took the brunt of the impact and smashed agonizingly into the rock. A fresh scream was ripped from his lips. He slid a foot or so before his body finally came to a stop.

Mind-numbing pain radiated from his knee. He hugged the appendage closer to his chest, rocking slightly as he tried to both assess the injury and distract himself from the ache. He didn't even realize his eyes were squeezed shut until he had to force the heavy lids open. The uniform material was still intact across his knee, but the quick swelling was causing it to stretch uncomfortably tight across the throbbing flesh. He rotated his knee experimentally, releasing small grunts from the effort. Well, his kneecap seemed to be intact, but he'd be willing to bet a large goose egg was forming amidst a flurry of bruises. Satisfied with his knee's condition for the time being, he turned his attention to the rest of his body. Even though Virgil was considered the team medic, their father had ensured they were all adequately trained to handle basic medical emergencies.

Scott forced himself to remain still and take stock of his wounds. He'd sustained a heavy gash above his right eye from the boulder that was bleeding steadily, but not immediately concerning. A few headshakes proved his neck was okay. Superficial lacerations lined his back from the initial fall and then there was his knee…all in all, not too bad. He'd definitely had worse. He sat up slowly, his body a symphony of pain. A groan to his right drew his attention as he wiped away blood that was sluggishly dripping into his eye.

"Al?" his voice came out weaker than expected. "Al, I'm here. It's okay." Not willing to put too much weight on his knee just yet, Scott half-crawled, half-dragged himself to his brother's side. Alan had landed amidst a cluster of heavy brush, which mostly concealed him from view. The blonde was lying on his side, a gash immediately evident on the back of his head. Scott didn't see any other visible ailments, but his heart rate doubled at the thought of possible internal injuries. Scott laid a hand on the youth's face, rewarded with his brother's impossibly blue eyes fluttering open. Those piercing eyes flickered back and forth in confusion and another low moan that resembled 'Scott' drifted momentarily between them before being ripped away by the harsh wind.

"Hey buddy, just stay still. Okay? I need to make sure you're alright." Alan nodded his head slightly, but Scott's grip tightened, restricting the movement. "No, don't move your head. Lie STILL. Let me know if anything hurts." His brother's eyes remained slightly unfocused, but he managed a small verbal affirmation. Scott started at his head, murmuring apologies as he further inspected the large gash. It was swollen and deeper than his own. He was most likely suffering from a concussion. "Alan, you've got a nasty cut to the back of your head. What about your neck? Your back?"

The blonde swallowed thickly and shook his head slightly. Defying his brother's orders, even in this state, Scott thought wryly, but it was a hollow, scary thought. "No, it's – they're fine." Alan spoke dryly, voice hitching slightly but becoming stronger. "I mean, I-I'm bruised and everything hurts, but nothing's broken. I-I can breathe fine, it's just m-my head."

"That's good, Al. Real good. Relax, just relax." Scott did his best to comfort his younger brother; relief washed over him as he realized the blonde was scared more than he was injured. That head injury was worrisome, though…

"Scott? A-Are you…?" Now it was Scott's turn to stare in confusion, until he comprehended where Alan was going with his question.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I hit my head, too, but it's not as bad as it looks." He decided not to say anything about his knee just yet. He gingerly helped Alan sit up and scoot out of the brush so he could lie down on a more comfortable sandy patch of ground. Exhausted from even that small movement, Alan curled on his side again, his eyes again seeming to swim in and out of focus.

Scott shook his brother's shoulder gently until he garnered the attention of that deep blue gaze. "Al, I'm going to call John. I'm here, right beside you. Focus on my voice. Try to keep your eyes open. That's it. Keep them open." Scott repeated his advice like a mantra while he commed the space monitor. His hands were shaking badly and, out of habit, he ran his fingers through his hair until the second eldest answered his call.

"Scott? That was fast. Is this about Alan?" Scott's heart skipped a beat at John's flippant response. How did he know? Had he anticipated something like this would happen? He HAD been the one to suggest Scott go with a buddy in the first place. Scott's bravado shattered. Of course John would have seen this coming. Scott wasn't fit to lead International Rescue, he couldn't fill his father's shoes and he couldn't even protect his baby brother. John's voice continued to filter through the wrist communicator, his words flowing easily.

"Scott, relax. So you and Alan got in a fight. It happens. He's not mad at you, he's upset because he wasn't able to go on a more interesting mission."

Scott blinked stupidly. He slowly marshaled his thoughts together. Why was John acting like everything was fine? "No, John, I know, but—"

"Look. Everyone says stuff they don't mean. A LOT. I should know, because I have to listen to you guys _all the time_." Scott heard a soft exclamation of breath from John, who was probably launching himself into another area of the space station. "But you all get over it eventually. And anyway, you chose the absolute wrong time for my infinite wisdom. Virg and Gordon are about to arrive on scene."

"John, wait—"

"So, I've gotta go. I've already got five calls holding, and that's not including the low priority ones EOS is filing for later—"

"John, STOP!" Scott's throat seized from the violent outburst and he found himself fighting a coughing fit. This only exacerbated the resolute pounding in his head, his knee throbbing in unison as though a wicked thread connected the two injuries. John's voice maintained his outer professionalism, but Scott could hear the undertone of concern.

"Scotty? What's wrong?"

John only called him Scotty when he was trying to placate him or when something was wrong. Well, something was most definitely, horrifyingly wrong. A primal sob interrupted his coughs as he fought the urge to cry. "It's Alan. He fell. We both fell."

A harsh intake of breath, then: "Okay, Scotty. I hear you. Now, how far did you fall?"

How far? He hadn't even considered the distance. Looking upwards hurt his eyes and he closed them briefly against the onslaught of pain. He cracked one eye open then dropped his gaze to the ground, hoping the newfound ache would recede.

"Maybe twenty feet. I can't really tell. It's hard to look up. It's just so tall."

"No, that's good. Now, Scotty, I need you to be honest. Are you alright?" The eldest recounted his injuries hurriedly. His eyes latched onto the bloodied sleeve he'd been using for his head and he found it was hard to look away from the red stain.

"And Alan?" the voice prompted. Scott vaguely realized he might have stopped speaking, though he didn't know how much time had passed. "How's Alan?"

"He's okay. We were just talking. He's lying down now. No signs of internal damage or spinal injuries. It's just his head. The back of his head has a big cut."

"You're doing great, Scotty. Alan's awake? Can he speak with me?"

Scott nodded even though John was only receiving audio transmission. "Yeah, he's here." He turned to the astronaut and lightly jostled his shoulder. A sliver of fear assaulted him like an electric jolt when he didn't receive a response. "Al? Al?!" The youth's eyes remained firmly closed.

"Scotty? Talk to me." John's simple request was as biting as the horrid wind and felt equally as cold. Scott couldn't bring himself to respond. He repeated Alan's name over and over, touching his face. Nothing. His brother was breathing, yes, but he wasn't THERE. He'd fallen asleep. Unconscious, his brain supplied. But even as John started peppering him with more questions, Scott couldn't tune out the words thrumming with the rapid beating of his heart. My fault. My fault. My fault.


	3. Chapter 3

"—SCOTT! Answer me, please!" The eldest Tracy jerked from his reverie, wincing at the sudden movement. His whole body felt heavy and sluggish. He opened his eyes – when had he closed them? – and sought out his wrist comm. He felt like he was moving underwater.

"John?" he asked dazedly, his confusion evident. He could hear his brother's exhalation of relief.

"Scotty, thank goodness! You've been out of it for a few minutes." Had he? Scott grimaced at his own helplessness. His own weakness. He couldn't think clearly and he was scared. Scared that his head injury was worse than he originally thought. Scared that Alan would never wake up. Scared that something like this would happen to another member of his family on a future mission. Scott crossed his arms, subconsciously trying to shield himself from the cool wind and stop his body from trembling.

"Scotty? You still with me?" Oh. John was still talking. He tried to pull himself together even as the world shifted out of focus.

"John, I can't do this."

"What are you talking about?"

"I can't…be like Dad. I can't get us back up to Thunderbird One. And even if I could, I'm in no shape to fly. Alan needs medical attention, and…" It's my fault. All my fault. He gazed down at Alan. His baby brother looked hurt and small and vulnerable, like he could break apart at the slightest touch. Scott shuddered and studied the bloodstain on his sleeve again.

He heard John hesitate, as if debating how to respond. Scott couldn't blame his younger brother for being angry with him. Alan was out cold and they hadn't even completed the satellite repairs. He braced himself for the worst. "Scott…I've looked up to you for as long as I can remember. Today is no different. Don't ever doubt yourself. Not now."

The eldest let out a wrecked breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. This wasn't the response he expected. Nor the one he deserved. "No, you shouldn't…not me, John. Please. Dad was – is – so much better. I try to be like him, but I just can't…a-and now Alan's…he's…" Scott lost his train of thought and stared feebly at the young astronaut. John shouldn't have so much faith in him.

John's reply was matter-of-fact. "I don't want you to be Dad. I love Dad and everyday I wish that we find him, but he's not my hero. That honor is all yours."

A hero? He didn't feel like a hero but, even so, his brother's praise softened the sharp edge of guilt that threatened to consume him. The redhead seemed to sense the change in mood and spoke rapidly, as if he was afraid Scott would slip into another long silence. "Scotty, we're gonna get through this. But I need you to listen to me. You need to follow my instructions. Let me take charge, okay?" Scott gave his consent.

"Good. Now, I've got to inform the others of what's happened. I'll keep our line open, so I'll hear you if you need help, but I've got to mute my end. Understand? You won't hear me for a few minutes, but I'll be right here." Scott managed a bleary response that didn't even coalesce itself into a word. John pressed forward without breaking stride. "In the meantime, I need you to test out that knee. Try to stand." The line buzzed slightly as the mute filter was applied, then silence once again reigned across the island.

Scott didn't want to stand. He was gripped by the irrational fear that he'd be that much farther away from Alan if he stood to his full height. He hurriedly located his brother's pulse, surprisingly strong, and willed himself to think logically. Large spires of rock surrounded him and, further down the path, an immense overlapping canopy connected a grove of tall trees. There was no room for any of the Thunderbirds to land or even for a rescue platform to be sent down. Which meant they had to move. Scott took a shaky breath. Then another. Despite everything, John had called him a hero. He wanted desperately to live up to that expectation.

The oldest brother pulled himself into a sitting position with his back taut against the cliff face, the pockmarked stone providing adequate handholds as he prepared to shift his good leg underneath him. He cringed as his injured knee tightened reflexively against the movement. Undeterred, Scott pushed himself upwards into a half crouch before slowly moving his throbbing knee. He exhaled in short, harsh breaths as he bore weight on the stiff appendage for the first time since smashing it into the boulder. The expected wave of pain hit him much harder than he anticipated, almost causing him to lose his grip. He fought off the accompanying nausea by hanging his head and counting the seconds until his breathing stabilized. His whole body trembled with the effort, sweat stinging his congealed head wound and threatening to drip into his eyes. A tentative half step forward proved his swollen knee could support his weight. He took another bold step and released his grasp from the gritty handholds. Swaying, but still standing. He inched closer to his unconscious sibling, grimacing with each little footfall, just as John's voice rang blessedly from his comm.

"We've got a plan in motion. You've gotta hang in there."

"Hey, I'm not the one…hanging around all the time." Scott's joke was weak, but had the desired effect. John chuckled lightly.

"Just for that, I'm holding you to a bucket of beers when I come home."

"I thought _you_ were providing the beers."

"Good man, Scotty. Way to pass my memory test." Scott rolled his eyes, immediately regretting that decision as the world spun around in a looping circle. "The fastest and easiest method for your extraction is if you can carry Alan to a spot where Thunderbird S can land. If you're unable to support his weight, we can use alternative methods, but with Alan's head injury—"

"I can handle it." Scott could physically feel John's scrutiny through his audio link.

"…Are you sure?" No, he wasn't sure of anything at the moment but the longer his brother stayed unconscious, the greater the potential for permanent damage. He couldn't take that chance. As if to prove his worth, Scott edged as close to Alan as possible and lowered his torso. He screamed as his back protested in agony, the cry lodging itself in his throat. He bent the rest of the way over, positioning one hand under Alan's knees and the other supporting his neck. His knee shook as he brought his brother's dead weight up and close to his chest, pain radiating from his entire being. He stood slowly, quivering under the additional burden, but he was up. Alan was in his arms and they were getting off of this wretched island. He basked in his accomplishment until he registered the incessant chatter coming from his comm. John was speaking erratically.

"Scotty, please, I just heard a yell, if you're okay, please respond. Scotty, come in. Don't do this to me again! SCOTT—"

The eldest found himself reassuring his brother of his presence for the second time in as many minutes. "I'm here. Sorry, it was my back. But I'm good now."

Silence. "Scotty, you're not good. In fact, in some ways you're worse off than Alan. This is too dangerous."

"I'm not leaving him here. I've already got him in my arms and I'm standing. Tell me where to go."

John sighed heavily. Scott guessed he was rubbing his temples. In a few seconds, a dim 3D image of an aerial view of the island came into focus on his wrist comm. A light blue line snaked elegantly through the representation. "Kayo's suiting up now. We've located a clearing a little over a mile from your position that is big enough to accommodate Thunderbird S. I've indicated the rendezvous point on your comm. Follow the blue line, and it'll lead you right there."


	4. Chapter 4

Scott managed to make it to the tree line before his knee gave out. The trek had been slow, but manageable, until his foot slid precariously on a sandy stone. The slight motion had been enough to throw off his momentum, sending the brunette careening downwards. He'd buried Alan protectively against his chest as his head and shoulder hit the ground with an intensity that shook him to the core. The impact left him breathless, pain shooting through his temple like sharpened spears. Scott didn't have the strength to gasp at the sudden agony and remained motionless, unable to will his body to move again. Even if he had the energy to reach out to John, his arm was crushed under Alan's weight, rendering his wrist comm useless. Spots danced at the edge of his vision and he fought to remain conscious. Apparently even his anger at the injustice of the situation wasn't enough to make things right this time.

The weight suddenly left his chest, though his breath still came in pitiful wheezes. A voice called out incoherently but the sound was muffled and seemed to come from far away. Kayo couldn't possibly be here yet, Alan was unconscious and John…was it John? Scott felt a pair of hands grasp his shoulders and touch his neck, checking for a pulse. The cry became louder, like an oncoming locomotive, until it was absolutely deafening. He fought the urge to give into his hallucinations. No one else was here. He'd hit his head at least twice and guilt was eating him up inside like a wildfire. Now he was creating salvation where none existed, trying to make up for his failures as a brother, a leader of International Rescue, a son…

The voice returned like an incessant gnat, disrupting his thoughts and receding when he tried to identify the source of the noise. The hands were back, prodding at his head and shoulder injuries and this time the voice was his, vocal chords becoming raw from another round of screaming. Exhaustion finally drove him to focus on the intruder. Maybe if he just concentrated hard enough, the delusion would fade and he could finally have some peace—

"SCOTT!" The voice assaulted him just as his eyes fluttered open. The world refused to seam together and he was left with a blurry, jumbled mess, like scattered puzzle pieces. He felt his body move against his own accord, back and shoulder stretching achingly as those same hands pulled him into an embrace.

"Tell me you're okay, _please_ …" the voice murmured, repeating his name and rocking him gently. Scott squinted, his brain working overtime to interpret the slew of images in front of his face. Blue uniform. Red sash. His forehead was pressed securely into his brother's chest.

"Al…?" he muttered softly, eliciting a yelp of delight from the blonde.

"You're awake!" Alan pushed Scott's shoulders back, his head lolling weakly without the extra support. Panic caused Alan's voice to raise an octave. "Scott?!"

The eldest closed his eyes against the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him. The nausea returned and he gripped his brother's arms weakly. "Just help me lay down. I hit my head again and everything's…I-I just can't seem to focus, I…" his voice faded to a whisper as his vision swam before him. He tried opening his mouth to finish his thought, but found he'd forgotten what he was going to say. His breath hitched with each exhale. His back felt flayed open. His knee was now so swollen it would hardly move. And his head…he'd never been so disoriented. Or in this much pain.

Instead of helping him to the ground, the astronaut grasped Scott firmly, rooting his upper body in a sitting position. He struggled sluggishly against the hands that held him steadfast, but Alan remained undeterred.

"Scott, don't. I've got you. If we're getting out of here, I can't have you falling asleep on me. You have a plan, right? Please say you have a plan." Desperation lined his younger brother's face.

 _Kayo's coming. They found a place to land Thunderbird S, but getting there will be a problem. We just have to follow John's path—_

A hard slap to Scott's face brought him back to his senses. "Scotty, hey. Stay with me, here. Tell me what we need to do."

The older Tracy recoiled from the blow, confused. He'd spoken out loud, right? He was sure of it…though his brother's actions stated otherwise. He concentrated on his response, verifying it was verbal this time when he felt the vibrations in his throat.

"John's sending Kayo. She's landing about a mile from here. He plotted a course for me using those coordinates. It's the blue line on my wrist comm." Carefully extricating his hand from Scott's right arm and reaching for his wrist, Alan flickered the watch interface to life. The small projection appeared.

"Okay, good. So we meet Kayo. Come on, let's go."

Scott's jaw fell in disbelief. "Al, I'm not going anywhere. And neither are you. You were _unconscious._ "

"I woke up."

"We need to get you checked out. I'm not risking moving you again."

"Good, because I can walk by myself, thanks."

"I'm being SERIOUS!"

"So am I."

Scott grit his teeth in agitation. He threw Alan an intimidating glare, but the youth simply shrugged.

"Al—"

"Scotty, you need medical attention."

"And you DON'T?!"

"I mean, more than me."

"But, your head—"

"Hurts, yeah. But I'll live." A pause. "Scotty, I can't carry you. But I'm not leaving you alone, either. If you stay here on the ground, you'll pass out. Virgil wouldn't let you live it down. So suck it up and STAND!" Again with the standing. The command became a plea as Alan shook from his outburst, quiet sobs filling the empty air. Guilt clawed at his conscience again. Scott caught his brother's eye and gave a resolute nod.

"Okay, okay. I'll try. But, I need…need your help. My eyesight won't focus and my knee. It's so painful."

Alan breathed a sigh of relief, then glanced at Scott's knee as if seeing the injury for the first time. He stood, positioning his grip on the brunette's belt and coordinating shoulder sash. "Alright, on the count of three, I'm going to pull you up to your feet. If you feel like you're gonna fall, lean into me. I'll catch you." Alan commenced the countdown then yanked Scott roughly upwards. Scott's knee jarred angrily when he applied pressure and he listed dangerously toward his good leg when he reached his full height. "Easy, Scotty!" came Alan's reply as his younger brother tucked himself into his side like a human crutch, taking the brunt of the weight. Scott breathed heavily, the world twisting around as if it was attached to some giant serpent. He didn't know how long he stood before Alan motioned him onwards. Taking tentative steps forward, hunched in agony, they began the tedious journey toward the clearing. Together.


	5. Chapter 5

"Thunderbird S, what's your status?" Alan asked, groaning a little under Scott's weight. Scott's arm was slung embarrassingly over his younger brother's shoulder, but he couldn't deny he needed the support.

"ETA thirty minutes. Keep it up, Alan. We'll have you boys out of there in no time." Kayo's crisp voice cut through the salty air.

"Nice, Kayo. I'm thinking Shadow could rival Thunderbird One for speed," John quipped, eliciting a throaty chuckle from Scott.

"No one rivals my baby, Johnny. We all know Thunderbird One is the best ship."

"There'd be no use for Thunderbird One without the communications and resources of Thunderbird Five."

"Hey! Let's not discount Thunderbird Three."

"Isn't Thunderbird S doing the rescuing?"

The light banter continued encouragingly with each aching step. Scott shifted his weight slightly and fell into a labored stride. Sheepishly, he thought about his earlier conversation with John and his shoulders dipped slightly at the memory. His younger brother had called him a hero. Him, of all people! A sidelong glance proved Alan was having more trouble keeping him upright than he let on, but still he persevered. Alan, whose head must be killing him, and yet he insisted on taking the lead and following John's coordinates when Scott failed to do so. A real hero, Scott mused, though he thought the word was fitting for each member of his family. Virgil and Gordon, continuing to help those in need even when two of their own were in danger. John, remaining calm and providing aid despite the distance. Kayo and Brains, always ready to lend a helping hand. Grandma, never allowing their resolve to waver. Dad, believing in their cause.

Scott just couldn't think of himself in the same way. He was too flawed, often taking one facet of his personality and driving it like a wrench within his family's perfect balance. Dad's missing and may not come back? Better take on the burden of leading International Rescue entirely by himself. Someone makes a minor mistake on a mission? Better drill them all mercilessly and demand perfection, even at the peak of exhaustion. Alan gets too close to the side of a dangerously high cliff? Better smother him to death with his protective tendencies instead of treating him like an adult. He sighed and Alan took the noncommittal noise as a sign of pain. He felt the blonde tighten his grip on the utility belt and hug him closer, murmuring words of encouragement.

The path gradually led away from the sandy, rock-hewn cliffs and into a deep copse of trees. Left to their own devices, the roots and vines had run wild, twisting around thick underbrush and battling the earth itself for dominance. Alan and Scott's already slow pace nearly stilled to a halt as they were forced to stop their rhythm and pick carefully through the unruly terrain.

"Al…?" Scott said tentatively as he neared… _something_ …on the ground. His vision was blurry and the blood from his head wound had started to congeal the eyelashes of one eye together. His younger brother followed his gaze and gave the brunette a reassuring nod.

"It's nothing, Scott. Just a root and then some brush. You can do this. I'll be supporting you the whole time. Just move your good leg – yeah, the left one – over first, then we'll get your knee over, alright?" Scott could feel himself nodding, though he didn't know if he was just parroting his brother or actually agreeing with the plan. Either way, he needed to move. Scott gripped Alan's shoulder tightly before gingerly lifting up his left leg. His breath caught at the wave of agony that washed over his wounded knee as his body attempted to compensate for the lost balance. Alan pulled him tighter still as he set his foot gently down on the other side of the barrier.

"Scott? You okay?" John. Asking if he was okay after stepping over a root. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

 _"Scotty?"_ A little more urgency this time.

"Johnny, I'm okay. Just one more step and I'm golden." His voice came out raspy and shaky. Scott hadn't realized how badly he was trembling. He lifted his swollen knee before he could give it much thought and couldn't hold back a yelp as pain arced through the area like a lightning bolt.

"That's it, Scott. Up and over. I got you," Alan said as John and Kayo provided their own verbal encouragements. He slowly, _slowly_ , lowered his foot over the protruding root and, with a sigh of relief, made contact with the ground. Hunched over, he drew himself up straighter, placing proportionate weight excruciatingly back onto his right leg. A sinister 'click' from under his foot caused him to freeze in terror. He grasped Alan's petite frame in a crushing hold to stop his knee from giving out.

"Don't. Move," Scott murmured, instinctively lowering his voice. He recognized that sound. He'd heard it often enough at the Air Force training compound.

A chorus of concerned voices surrounded him but only Alan's cut through the chaos. "What is it? What's going on?"

 _It's going to be fine. You're safe. I'll take care of you. I should never have brought you here._ He swallowed thickly, trying to will the words to come. Guilt. Shame. More guilt. "Alan, I'm so, so, sorry. For everything. Everything I've ever done." His body shook and he tightened his grip around the youngest Tracy.

Bewilderment and fear colored his brother's voice. "Scott, what happened?"

"It's all my fault. This island must've been a war zone at one time." He cringed at his own recklessness. "I stepped on a pressure plate, Al. It's connected to an explosive. If I even try to lift my right foot…"

"…Game over." Alan whispered, eyes widening in terror.


	6. Chapter 6

Keeping consistent, equal pressure on the plate was key. A severe enough shift to either side could trigger an explosion even if his foot never left the metallic surface. Scott couldn't help an involuntary shiver as he crushed Alan against his side, a counterbalance against his weakening knee. He strained with the effort of applying downward force on his right leg even as his mind screamed for him to stop. One of Alan's gloved hands swiped a particularly tender scrape on his back while returning the embrace, nearly causing the brunette to stagger forward. His breath seized, inhalation coming in short, irregular bursts as he combated his rising panic. He couldn't breathe. _He couldn't_ _breathe._

"…when Kayo arrives, she'll work with Brains to disarm the explosive. In the meantime, try not to move and keep Scott's weight centered." When had John started speaking? Alan's response diminished to a soft muffle as Scott dropped his head into his brother's shoulder from sheer exhaustion. The action condensed his windpipe and made it harder to inhale. Fingers brushed against his forehead, cupping his chin and forcing him to focus on cerulean blue eyes.

He caught fragments of conversation—

"…he can't breathe, what should I…"

"…hyperventilating, he needs to calm down…"

—before the static returned, reducing all outside interferences to white noise. He closed his eyes against the piercing gaze, the rise and fall of his chest taking on an uneasy cadence as he tried to remember how to breathe normally. The attempt was compounded by his intermittent gasps of pain and his grip tightened. He fought his brother's attempts to steady his face, instead turning his sight downwards and trying to scrunch in on himself. The pain was everywhere, consuming his body like a hungry fire intent on reaching his core. His lungs burned with those flickering coals, each intake of air a punishable necessity. The cut above his eye throbbed with the failing effort, then his scalp ached as his brother yanked backwards on his hair, forcing his head up. Tears streaked unbidden down his face as he took a deep lungful of oxygen. The pressure on his hair remained while another vice-like grip locked onto the back of his collar, effectively locking his head and shoulders in place. His back protested angrily against the rigidly enforced posture.

"Scotty, you've gotta stay upright, it'll help you breathe. I'm not trying to hurt you. C'mon, take deep breaths, okay?"

He sucked down mouthfuls of biting wind, eyes squeezed shut against the harsh rays of the sun. The coals lessened slightly as they were doused with the chilly island air.

"…relax, just relax. C'mon, Scotty…"

His breathing settled into a semblance of normalcy, pocketed only by dry coughs and hitches of discomfort. The tugging on his hair ceased, the firm grip readjusting to rest at his shoulder.

"…you're doing great, that's it…"

His knee felt like it would shatter. It was a testament to Alan's resolve he hadn't yet collapsed. He opened his one eye not congealed with blood and, upon seeing his brother's face, shut it quickly. He couldn't stand to look in those eyes. He knew what would be lurking in their depths.

"John, he's doing better. He's alright. Scotty, can you hear me? Just look at me, please. You're okay. Keep breathing. I've got you." Scott shook his head mutely. He didn't deserve to look his brother in the eye. Any of them, in fact. Not after this. He didn't doubt they would forgive him, eventually; no, he doubted his ability to forgive himself.

"Scott…?" The sound of soft whimpering tore through him deeper than any rock. He wrenched his eye open blearily, the pull of his big brother instincts driving him to console the youngest Tracy even under these circumstances.

"Hey, Al." Barely above a whisper, hardly coherent, but there. "I'm here." Bloated pauses settled between each word, like invisible hurdles set too high to overcome. His strength waned with those four words even as Alan's seemed to increase, his brother's hold regaining new vibrancy. For this, Scott was thankful; he sagged slightly into his brother's hold, releasing a small portion of tension welled up along his shoulder blades.

"SCOTT? ALAN? Are you two okay?!" A deep voice rang from Scott's wristcomm, disregarding all official protocols. Static dotted the transmission briefly before John was able to clean up the communication.

"Virg…" Scott couldn't even spit out the second syllable before his voice died in his throat. Remorse coated his heart. He'd completely forgotten about Virgil and Gordon and their mission to assist GDF. His memory of their briefing by the satellite trickled like water through laced fingers. Something about an explosion…collapse…people trapped…"Rescue?" He hoped the one word question would be enough to convey his thoughts. He didn't think he could summon the strength to speak for much longer.

Virgil gave a distracted sigh, probably running his hand through his hair. The raven-haired brother had picked up that habit from Scott, unfortunately. "Textbook operation. All civilians rescued, explosion deemed an accident, no injuries."

The brunette smiled in relief. His form wilted further, eliciting a grunt from the youngest, whose upper body shook with the effort of keeping the eldest upright. His beloved middle brothers were unharmed. His injured knee jerked involuntarily, the motion causing him to list to the side. Alan caught him, though the previous surge of energy was gone.

"John, Kayo. I can't hold on to Scott for much longer. He's falling." Alan's voice shook worse than his trembling arms. A chorus of frightened, concerned brothers heralded Scott, not unlike a choir of angels. The thought was comforting.

"Alan, you can't let him go. I've just landed S, I've got your coordinates, I'll be by your side in a few minutes."

Scott felt a familiar wave of guilt corrode him from the inside out. He didn't want to drag Kayo down with him, too. It was bad enough he wasn't strong enough to save Alan; he refused to let this explosion claim his little sister as well. A slew of voices begged, barked orders, demanded him to speak, urged him not to give up. He thought of Dad. _I'm sorry._ He was out there, somewhere. _I wasn't the leader you needed me to be._ His family would find him. He wished Alan could be a part of that reunion. _It's all my fault._

The spots appeared at the corners of his vision again, although Alan's pleading wouldn't be enough to stave off unconsciousness this time. Leaves crunched under gentle footfalls while soothing assurances wrapped him in a tight cocoon. The footsteps became louder, stopping momentarily as a slender hand brushed bloody bangs from his face, exposed fingertips cool to the touch.

"K…?" No. She could not be here. She needed to leave before it was too late!

"Scott, I'm here." Her clipped accent exuded confidence. Her half-gloved hand left his face as she knelt by his side. "I'm working on disarming the plate now. You have to stay still. Brains, I'm sending you the images." He tried to reason with her again.

"No…please…I…" he wavered, unable to finish his appeal. He felt his baby brother tighten his embrace.

"You've held out this long. Please, you can do this." He tried to return Alan's hug, but his arms felt limp, disconnected. Try as he might, he couldn't stop the massive trembling that ripped through his body from head to toe.

"Stay with me, Scott. Just a few more wires."

His voice was gone. He couldn't even nod his assent. The brunette leaned more heavily against his brother as his graying world tilting alarmingly to the side. Alan, despite his exhaustion, clung to him even tighter, encouraging him to do the same. Scott's leaden limbs refused to cooperate, his grip releasing his brother's uniform with an agonizing slowness. He swayed even further, the movement breaking his brother's hold and subsequent counterbalance. A sob clawed his throat when he felt his right foot lose contact with the pressure plate. His world turned black.


	7. Chapter 7

Warmth. The sensation trickled merrily through his chest, branching out to his extremities, engulfing him completely. He expected the heat to burn, but instead it shimmered lazily around his skin, erasing his tremors in its wake while seeping its blessed touch into his frozen core. He moved gradually, arms lifting slightly as if trying to hold in as much warmth as possibly. Dull pain lanced through his back, though the strangely concentrated heat helped in controlling the spasms. A small sigh of relief escaped his lips at the comfort. His movements were restrained somewhat, though he quickly realized the thin material covering his torso wasn't bound in any way and smelled surprisingly familiar. _Mom…?_ No, it couldn't be…his hands wove experimentally over the worn quilt, tracing familiar outlines. He kneaded the plaid material under his knuckles and over his heart. His mother had made each of the Tracy boys a quilt before her passing; he had used his so much it was almost torn apart at the seams. The real question was why? Why was his mother's quilt here?

"It seems you're finally awake. You gave us a real scare, you know that?" Virgil's deep voice penetrated the silence, rumbling richly from somewhere to his right. Scott instinctively leaned toward the sound, despite protests emanating from his back and head, which had begun to pound with renewed vigor. He opened both eyes slowly, realizing sluggishly that there was no longer any blood masking his vision. His eyesight wavered somewhat, but he was able to make out the medic standing over his bedside. His immediate surroundings sharpened like a lens coming into focus, the sharp smell of antiseptic permeating the air. He was in the med bay. He was home.

Virgil placed a large hand on his shoulder while he pulled up a chair. "Hey, buddy. Don't worry, you're safe. You're safe now, Scotty." Scott tried to nod, but grimaced as the ice pick feeling driving into his skull increased. Virgil tightened his grip on his shoulder. "Yeah, a knock to the head like that isn't a walk in the park. Well, technically _two_ hits to the head. I need to do a basic assessment for your concussion, since you're awake. This might get a little uncomfortable; bear with me." It was then that Scott realized his gruff younger brother was speaking in a low whisper to accommodate for his throbbing head. The Thunderbird Two pilot produced a tiny penlight, wincing in sympathy. Virgil gently pried the brunette's eyes open against the harsh glare so he could gauge the pupils' reactions, then asked Scott a series of basic questions. Satisfied with the prognosis, Virgil hummed lowly to himself and grinned.

"Your reactions are slow, but that's to be expected. You just need some good, old-fashioned rest." Scott, who was still trying to blink the afterimages of the light from his eyes, shifted towards Virgil's voice again only to groan as another bolt of pain shot up his body. "Easy there, Scotty. Don't want to dislodge those heating pads." Ah. Heating pads. That explained the warmth…although a tiny part of Scott wanted to believe his mother's presence was affording the same luxury. He twisted the quilt beneath his hands again, trying to remain still.

"Alan?" he croaked, throat scratchy and dry. His mind drifted through a fog. Something to do with Alan. It was like wedging broken glass together; cracks scarred his memories, the splintered ends physically stabbing his head from the inside out.

"He's fine. Slight concussion, but no other bodily damage thanks to that bush that broke his fall. Kayo, she's—"

"Kayo!" Scott all but screamed, trying to push himself into a sitting position. He'd forgotten. How could he have forgotten? His baby brother. Kayo. _The bomb!_ He struggled weakly against Virgil's strong hands now pressing his shoulders back into the plush mattress. "No, there was—there was a bomb, please, Virg—"

"Calm down. Scotty, hey, it's alright. They're fine." Scott continued to fight back futilely. He'd been standing on a pressure plate. He fell. _My fault._ "SCOTT!" Virgil's voice broke above a whisper, piercing the brunette's head wound like a live wire. Scott clutched at the sleeves of his brother's shirt, eyes pleading despite the pain. The raven-haired brother's voice softened. "Kayo disarmed the bomb. She and Alan are fine." Virgil repeated himself until Scott relaxed fully, sighing contentedly as his back made contact with the heating pads once again.

"I want to see them. I need to see everyone, Virg. I need to make sure they're okay," Scott said in what he hoped was a forceful tone, but his brother shook his head.

"What you _need_ is rest. You're much too sensitive to light and sound to handle a room full of people. I'm pressing matters even now. Has your headache gotten worse?" Scott scowled, which Virgil took as an affirmative. "Try to get some sleep, and I'll check on you later. Okay?" His brother dimmed the lights even further as he exited the room, providing Scott instant reprieve against the harsh artificial glow. Closing his eyes afforded even more relief and, in addition to the heating pads and warm quilt, he found himself drifting off to sleep against his better judgment. It seemed like only minutes had passed before he awoke to a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently. He groggily assumed it must be Virgil, coming in to check in on him, but when his eyes finally opened, he made out a shock of blonde hair even in the low light.

"Alan!" he croaked, pulling the youngest into a tight embrace. He didn't let go, even when his brother landed soundly on his injured knee, jarring the appendage held tight in an immovable brace. "I was so worried. I begged Virgil to let me see everyone, but…well, I fell asleep." He grinned, expecting his brother to make some sort of mocking comeback. His smile faltered when he was met with silence, concern beginning to lace his features. "Al?" A quiet sob broke the peaceful ambience of the room. It was then he noticed the astronaut was shaking. "Al, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

Alan blinked blearily up at him, speaking between whimpers. "You're asking if…if I'm okay? When you're the one lying there?" There was no anger in his voice; just a complete, overwhelming sadness that didn't sit right with his usual optimistic expression. The throbbing in his head began again, although this time at a much more manageable level. He loosened his grip so he could look his brother in the eye and winked good-naturedly.

"Of course! I'll never stop asking if you're okay. Because why would anyone prefer to fly Three over my precious Thunderbird?" This achieved the desired affect and Alan sat up a little, thankfully shifting his weight off his knee.

"We got her home safe, you know. Thunderbird One. John remote piloted her in." Scott visibly relaxed at the news.

"Good. She'd better be in pristine condition when I take her out again." Alan wiped a few more fallen tears from his cheeks and the lighthearted atmosphere dissipated immediately. "Al, are you in any pain? What about your head? That gash looked pretty deep." Scott tried to reach toward Alan, but the youngest flinched away from his touch. To his surprise, Alan's voice rose in pitch, exacerbating the pounding in his head.

"Why, Scott? Why aren't you angry with me?!" Stunned, Scott thought back to the disastrous mission. Why should he be mad at Alan? He wondered if his confusion was stemming from his concussion or if his brother was simply talking nonsense.

"I'm not angry with you because…is there a reason?" Scott said stupidly, his innocent response only fueling Alan's outburst.

Alan stood from the bed and began to pace. He ran his hands through his hair and turned his back to the eldest, directing his attention to the opposite wall. "Because it's all _my fault!_ "

"Wait, what? Your fault? Hold on, Al—"

"I started the fight. I threw a fit because I couldn't go on the better mission. I disregarded your orders and because of that I fell. We both fell. And then you…you kept spacing out and couldn't stand and then…the bomb…"

"AL!" Scott yelled, closing his eyes against the pain rolling in his head. He took a few steadying breaths to clear the discomfort as his brother turned slowly to face him again. "I'm not mad at you." The blonde scoffed and attempted to argue, but Scott held up a hand for silence. "Just hear me out." When he was sure the interruptions had ceased, he continued. "I wanted to go on the mission to GDF, too. But that's the great thing about working with family. I had complete faith in Gordon and Virgil's abilities, and you know what? It turns out they didn't need either of us at all! Kinda makes you feel a little small, huh?" Alan's face turned thoughtful. "And that was with us sucking up all John's attention. So, I understand. We're so alike that we repelled each other by the satellite. Sorta like magnets. Or rather, the opposite of gravity since we're into space and all that."

Alan snickered softly, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "So, what you're saying is—"

"Exactly. How about we chalk this up to an accident so I can go back to sleep?" As if to prove his point, Scott pulled the quilt back up to his chin, as it had slid down a bit and closed his eyes. He smirked into the darkness. "And I have to thank you for the quilt, Al. I know you're the one who brought it down for me." Alan responded quietly, then moved into an eventual one-sided conversation as drowsiness began to consume Scott. At the cusp of consciousness between wakefulness and sleep, he heard his brother's soft footfalls approach the doorway, then shuffle nervously as if he couldn't decide whether to leave or stay. Finally, as sleep took him, Alan spoke again.

"Scotty, I spoke with John. He told me what you said about Dad. I want you to know something. You're my hero, too."

Author's Note: Hello, fellow Tbirds! Many thanks to all who have read, followed, favorited and especially reviewed this story so far! This has been such a blast and I have enjoyed every second. Tbirds, I need your help. Should I continue this story? Or start on a new one? What would you like to see? Let me know your wonderful ideas! It appears my international friends get to enjoy Season 2 starting today – so lucky! I must regrettably wait until November to finish Season 1, but don't hesitate to send me a message and tell me about the amazing new season (no spoilers, please)! Until next time. FAB!


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